An Apple A Day
by PancakeSandvich
Summary: ... keeps the doctor away. Except, no, it actually doesn't. Scout is a little buttmuffin, Doc is a big buttmuffin, and shenanigans ensue. Warning: bloodplay/Scootabuse is very heavy throughout.
1. Chapter 1

I'm bringing it back, bros.

That's right.

(To new readers: sup. I hope you enjoy this. To my old readers: BRINGING IT BAAAACK)

* * *

A knock at the door drags me outta sleep and right away I'm fuckin' angry. It's my day off, ain't no battles scheduled today, an' if I gotta get up at 0700, there better be a good fuckin' reason.

I ain't even dressed, just sleepin' in my boxers, and I figure if anyone's desperate enough to see me at this time they can handle me undressed. I run one hand through my hair before bellowin, "Who the hell is it? Ain't you got any idea what time it is?"

"It is time for your examination, dear Scout," purrs a voice.

Ah, fuck.

I hate doctors.

I bounce up, wrench open that door. 'Course he's all immaculate and shit, looks like he irons his underwear he's so uptight and 'proper'. I don't understand how anyone can look that together in the morning.

"Ain't you got someone else to prod with a needle?" I grunt at him. I rub my stubble - fuck you, what little there is of it. I need a shower and a shave, maybe a can of Bonk to wake me up. He just laughs at me, points at my boxers.

"What a charming print, Scout."

Ah, fuck. I'm wearing the teddy bear boxers Ma sent me. Course, I didn't bother to check. I huff at him, haul on my pants. I'm reaching fer my shirt when he stops me, grabs my arm.

"You won't need zat. I'll be conducting a full physical examination. I need only an hour out of your ... busy schedule." Ah, fuck him. He's drippin' sarcasm. Sure, ain't like I got much to do today, but I'm so fuckin' busy the rest of the time it's nice to have a break.

"Okay, okay, keep yer shorts on, gramps. I'm comin'." He holds the door for me, gives me a little bow, and I have to squeeze past him, he's takin' up so much room. This guy looks like he should be fat and old but he's fuckin' ripped and it's making me a bit uncomfortable to feel his muscles brush me as I slip past him.

I guess I'm a bit nervous - I don't want no needles and I'm sure that's what's comin' - so I start gettin' loud. Real loud. So loud that before we even reach his exam room I'm almost runnin' up the walls. Bouncing off 'em, literally - I get a runnin' start, jump off the wall and see how close I can get to him without hittin' him. I guess that's kinda how I broke his glasses.

"Scout!" he yells, an' for a second he looks real mad. I stop dead, sheepish-like, and scuff the ground. I'm barefoot, end up with a bit of lino burn on my toe.

"Sorry, doc," I tell him, pickin' up his glasses. It's right on the arm that it's broken, an' I figure Engie could fix it up real good. I tell him so.

"Yes, Scout, I shall bring zem to him shortly." Blind as a fuckin' bat he is, obviously, cause he's squintin' real hard. "But for now I have a spare pair in my office. Please, no more shenanigans!"

He takes off again, an this time I follow behind, wantin' not to piss him off. I've seen him angry and it ain't a pretty sight.

I guess that's why I don't kick up a fuss when he sits me on the exam table. I just wait real patient while he goes into his office to get his glasses. At least, I'm patient for a couple of minutes. Then I start pokin' at his knives and poky things and peerin' around trying to find where he keeps his needles. I hate needles so goddamn much. I guess he knew to hide 'em, cause if I could find 'em I'd sure as hell make sure he ain't never getting near me with one again.

He's kinda annoyed when he comes back in and finds me up to my elbows in bandages, wrappin' my hands. Fuck, I get distracted real easy.

"Scout, sit on ze TABLE," he snaps, and I scuttle back, poutin'.

"Jeez, okay, doc, no need to flip out!"

He doesn't bother to answer, just sticks his stethomascope on my chest and it's fuckin' freezing. It's hard to sit still so I start fidgeting. You know, tying bandages again and again. He didn't say nothin' about me takin' them so I guess he just doesn't mind. Maybe.

"Do I need to strap you down? I will not hesitate if I must."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, doc." I'm practically bouncin' in place now as he tests my nerves and shit, whackin' on my elbows like he's swattin' a roach. Doesn't he know how hard it is for me to sit like this? I gotta run, I'm awake now, and my feet itch to pound a track.

Now he's testin' my knees, gettin' real impatient with my pants cause they're in the way I guess. "Scout, take zese off, bitte," he tells me. I get all red in the face, knowin' he'll mock my shorts again.

"Do I gotta?" I ask him, and I guess I whined a bit because he rolls his eyes and snaps, "now!"

So I hop down, strip 'em off, and kinda bounce in place 'til he pushes my chest and makes me sit back down. His fingers are touchin' me all soft, feels like spiders, and I realize he ain't wearin' gloves. Super gay.

I sorta jump up and flip out, and he snaps, I swear to god he's crazy as shit. He shoves me down on my back and holds me there, straps my fuckin' wrists. I am NOT okay with this.

"Jesus, doc, what the fuck?" I yelp, tuggin' at the straps on my arms as he ties down my legs. This REALLY ain't okay, I can't run now. I start freakin' out, breathin' real fast.

"I warned you," he says, almost teasin' me. "Now perhaps I can examine you in peace. Shut up," he adds, distracted like.

I ain't gonna cry, I ain't gonna cry, I ain't gonna cry. I don't like being held down.

Something in his eyes is makin' me uneasy.

He leans in close and shoves up his glasses on his face. "Vhat is zis contusion?" he asks, runnin' his fingers along my hip.

"What the fuck is a confusion?" I ask right back.

"Zis bruise," he explains, looking pained. He taps it with his thumb. I wince like a motherfucking wimp. "Aww, does someone hurt?"

For a moment he looks a bit scared. I don't get it until he leans in and kisses my bruise.

Okay, this is beyond fuckin' gay now. I thrash around a bit. "Lemme go," I demand. "This ain't cool."

He puts his hand over my mouth, licks my ear. I can't help it, it feels fuckin' good and I shiver.

"Zis is most definitely 'cool', Liebling. Let me look at you."

He takes his hand away, and before I know it he's kissin' me. Oh, fuck. Way too gay for words.


	2. Chapter 2

For the next ten or so chapters, I'll try to update once a day. After that, seeing as some chapters were lost, I'll aim for once a week. Stick around, bros.

* * *

Our kiss is deep and sensual. My tongue wrestles his for control; a little moan builds in his throat, draws out, hisses from his nostrils into nothingness. He is moving against me and whining like a puppy, eager, hungry. All of a sudden he starts to suckle on my tongue and I nearly lose it, drowning in his scent. He smells of sweat and dirt and youth, his cheeks are nearly devoid of hair, and I want to possess him, body and soul. I want him to be mine.

I lift my head from his and purr to him, as I stroke his cheek, "you are so handsome, dear little Scout."

To my surprise he leans up and bites my lip.

Furious, I stand still and narrow my eyes. This reaction was not expected - I have seen the way he looks at me, the way his eyes dilate and fix on me when I pass. I have seen the shivers, the goosebumps, the blushes.

"What the hell are you doing, old man?" he asks me. There is a self-conscious whine in that voice. I know he wants more.

"Ah, mein Spatz, vhat do you want me to do?" I move to kiss him again but he starts struggling.

"Let me the fuck outta these ropes, you psycho! Lemme up!"

I mop a thin trail of blood from my chin. The little bastard broke the skin, and as I soothe the ragged edge with the tip of my tongue I shoot him a deadly glare. He soon settles down.

"If you really vant me to let you up -"

"I do," he interjects. Another glare and he falls silent, pouting like a child.

"Zen I vill let you up and ve can continue as if zis never happened."

I release his wrists first. He sits up, rubbing them and trying to shield his erection from my view. I can't help a little smirk as I notice the effect I seem to have on the boy; at the very least, his body has reacted favourably, and that is encouraging.

When I release his legs he twitches violently. It seems the touch of my hands has gotten him in quite a state, and he appears to be fighting his natural reaction.

He sits still and glum for the rest of the exam - allowing me to poke and prod at his ribs, lecture him on his preference for junk foods, and even to inject him with a vitamin supplement. "You are not giving your body ze nourishment it requires," I explain, and he just shrugs.

Before I let him go, though, I return my fingers to the contusion over his hipbone. It is purple and yellow, and, by the looks of his face when I get near it, extremely painful. "Vhat is zis from?"

"Ah, it's nothin'," he tells me.

"Liebling, bitte. You must tell me. I am your Medic, you can trust me."

He almost laughs at that, but manages to contain himself. "Eh, RED Scout managed to get me one. Ain't nothin', though, like I said. I bashed his head in for that."

"You should have told me, Scout. It may have impacted your joint. Zis may hurt your running abilities. After all, vhat use are you to ze team vhen you cannot run? Here, mein Spatz, allow me to help you."

"My name ain't Spatz, gramps," he grumbles, but he allows me to train the Medigun on him and give him a good blast. At first his face scrunches in pain, but soon he leans back in bliss. I almost want to leave the beam on him, just to see that expression, but I resist. No point in allowing his body to build up a resistance to the beam.

Like a true gentleman, I pick up his trousers from where he tossed them carelessly on the floor, and offer them to him. "Your trousers, Spatzchen. You are free to go vhenever you vish."

"How many times I gotta tell you?" he grunts, grabbing his pants and slipping into them gracelessly. He is all angles and points, my little bird, so clumsy and yet so fluid. He is water and I am so parched.

"Tell me vhat, exactly?"

He rubs the back of his neck for a moment. "Look, my name ain't Spits or whatever the hell you been callin' me."

"Ah, I know."

"Then why you gotta call me that?"

I smirk at him, adjusting my glasses on my face. I have no ready answer, for once; I have no way to make him understand if he doesn't already.

"You are dismissed, Scout. Go easy on your hip today, and you vill be in peak condition for ze battle tomorrow."

"Yeah, uh, thanks, doc." He doesn't leave. Instead, he shuffles back and forth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. I just stand and watch. I can play this game all day; I have no pressing appointments. After all, it is a day off, and I did free it to spend with Scout.

So we stand in silence for some minutes; I, calm, composed and still, and Scout hopping about like his feet are burning. His narrow chest is nearly devoid of hair. Sometimes I forget just how young he really is. He is barely moving into adulthood, and his face, so youthful, is often that of a child. I suppose this attraction likens me to a pederast, as my Scout is still, technically, a teenager, at least for another year.

I am about to interject, to soothe or flatter, to ease the tension, when his coiled muscles spring and he pounces on me. He is a kitten, too small and clumsy to really damage me, but he knocks me to the floor and perches on me, grabbing my lapels in his hands and kissing me, hard.

He is so new to this, I could almost laugh. Almost, if his lips weren't so soft and his breath so delicious in my throat. He nuzzles his nose against mine, and I wonder if he is even aware of those adorable little noises he is making. God, he seems so desperate! His tongue forces itself between my lips and dives into my mouth, frantically searching. Everything he does is so hurried. I stroke one hand along his back, grasp the back of his neck, and attempt to slow him. He doesn't understand, until I grab him by the hair, roll him underneath me, and crush his body to mine in a tight embrace. Not until I pin him down, grinding my broad hips against his, holding his tiny frame securely. Not until I take control of our kiss and turn it into a slow, burning duet.

He draws back, gasping, and I allow him to breathe. No need to suffocate him now; it would only scare him away.

"M-my name is Finnbar," he murmurs, hiding his face in my neck. I bask in the sensation of his lean body next to mine. I don't have long, because soon he's pushing me off him and standing up.

"I gotta go," he tells me. I grab his hand, press a kiss to the back. He blushes bright red and runs out the door.

And I'm left alone, feeling the bitemark he left on my lip and wondering if any of this was real.


	3. Chapter 3

DID SOMEONE ORDER SEXUAL TENSION

* * *

I dunno how I handle the days. Battle after battle, lost in thought. I ain't got enough brain to go around anyway, they all say. Now it's all taken up by that old ass.

Taken up by his lips.

Fuck, I ain't gonna think about that! Bash skulls in, I tell myself, you gotta go get some kills. Fuck some REDs over. Kill 'em all.

So I'm killin' and killin', it's what I was born to do, and then somewheres I hear "Get on ze point!" or "it's time for your examination" and that growl gets me goin', it really does. I lose track of my heart for a minute or two. It's off somewhere beatin' real hard and I can't hardly stand it.

And battle after battle I'm runnin' with that intel and I feel his medigun hittin' me and it's so goddamn warm I feel like I'm full up with bunnies or something else fun to hit with a bat. Battle after battle I'm tryin' to avoid his eyes, all shy and shit, and he's followin' me, keepin' an eye on me. I'll hear some dumbass sneakin' up on me but before I can raise my bat he's fulla needles or some shit, and I smell that doctor smell, the smell of the skin wipes they use before they stick ya with a shot.

I just can't take it anymore, I can't handle it. I'm goin' nuts with the smell of him, the feel of those muscles. I never knew an old guy could be so strong.

So I lineup like everyone else does at the end of the battles, but I'm lettin' everyone go ahead of me. I want to be last. This ain't unusual, cause I fuckin' hate doctors, even though I love bein' first for everythin' else. I can't think of any excuses to leave, cause I'm pretty fucked over - I'm fuckin' covered in blood and bruises, couple bullet holes, a broken wrist I think. It's painful as shit but I don't whine much.

It takes fuckin' FOREVER to get everyone outta there, an' I'm fidgeting like no tomorrow when Demo finally gets his drunk ass fixed up and bails. Once everyone's gone, though, I get real fuckin' nervous and almost wanna hightail it back to my own room, pretend ain't nothin' wrong with me.

But that old man saunters out, notices I'm the only one sittin' there still, and nods his head at me. "Scout. Please, won't you join me."

So fuckin' formal, all the time. I dunno how to deal with it, him actin' like ain't nothin' happened between us. I guess I just gotta suck it up, I tell myself as I follow him.

He seats me on the table like it's any other day, aims his medigun at me and blasts me hard. It always feels like shit at first when my bones knit together and my skin regenerates, but soon it feels fuckin' AMAZIN' and I never want it to goddamn stop.

It's over too soon and he's headin' fer the door, and I'm frantic, tryin' to find something to say. I don't know how to make words come outta my mouth.

"Hey, gramps -"

"I am not your gramps, Spatzenhirn," he tells me sternly.

"Okay, whatever. Just ... what the hell was the other day, huh? I ain't got no sleep -"

"It's vhatever you vant, just -"

"No," I yell, "you gotta tell me! It's chewin' me up, you don't even understand -"

"Scout, bitte, lower your voice, child -"

"I ain't no child!"

Before I know it I'm on my feet, standin' across the table from him.

"Please, Finnbar. You must calm down!"

"Don't you fuckin' tell me what to do," I snap, and soon that fuckin' table is on the floor, on it's side, and all the pokey instruments are all over, skiddin' across the tile. I manage to hit his boot with one of his knifey things, and it scratches it real good across the toe.

Fuck, but he's calm. He stands there for a moment, lookin' at his shoe. Then he's walkin' toward me real slow like and adjusting his tie. He undoes the top button on his collar, takes off his gloves and puts 'em on his desk, rolls up his sleeve.

I'm so busy watchin' him that I don't even feel his hand on my cheek, at first. He slaps me with all the strength he can muster and I'm on the floor on my ass, bruisin' my tailbone.

"What ... what the fuck?" I whisper. My lips were knocked against my teeth, I'm bleedin' something fierce. He bends over, grabs the front of my shirt. I'm in the air. Fuck, he's so strong. Ain't like I weigh much but he's holdin' me with one hand -

And now I'm against the wall, my head fucking HURTS where it hit the cement. I grunt and kick at him but he's gone and put his other hand on my hips to hold me back.

"You may disrespect doctors, including my good self," he whispers, and he's growlin' like a lion now, his eyes so fulla anger he looks like he's gonna blow up. "You may detest my office and all zat happens in here. You may even be moved to shout or harm me. But you do NOT interfere vith my tools, my clothing, or my furniture. You do NOT touch any of my equipment vithout my permission. Do you understand zat, or must I dumb it down for you?"

Somethin' about the taste of my own blood - fuck, it's blurrin' my head.

"Answer me, you little slut."

"Oh, shut your fuckin' mouth," I tell him, an' I'm leanin' forward, kissin' him hard.

He gets real mad again, grinds his palm into my junk. I whine, but oh god, he's touchin' me there, it's all I've wanted for so long.

"No," he snarls. "No, Spatzchen, I am in charge here. And ze sooner you learn zat, ze better."

His mouth is around my throat now, I'm dizzy as fuck, kin barely breathe but I love it. Fuck, I'm so hungry and I want him kissin' me, I want his tongue in my mouth, I want him to touch me, touch me, and never fuckin' stop. I guess I caught the queer, but hell if it don't feel good.

So when he finally kisses me again and lets me breathe I moan full on into his mouth, and he's holdin' me up against the wall. Good fuckin' thing cause if he let go I'd fall on my fuckin' face.

His leg is in my crotch now, rubbin' hard. I slip one of my hands free and snake it down his stomach, feelin' his abs. I wish I could get that built.

I can't help it, I gotta break away from that kiss. "You're so fuckin' ripped," I tell him. He chuckles and his eyes go all soft.

"Zat pack is exceptionally heavy," he says. "Now, I do believe zat hand has some business lower down ..."

Before I kin do anythin', he tosses me on the floor like a doll and unzips his pants. I grunt, get up on my knees, shuffle towards him all hungry and shit. Somethin' about him just makes me wanna be good, makes me wanna please him.

So it feels so fuckin' good when he tosses my hat across the room, runs his hand through my hair and tells me I'm a good Spatz, whatever that fuckin' means. I almost fuckin' purr, I swear to god, and he slowly unwraps the bandages from my hands.

I want my skin on his, I been waitin' for a moment to unwrap those bandages myself. I guess it's good he's takin' charge cause in just a few more minutes I wouldn't'a thought of that.

And I slam my hand on him, fast as I can. I want his dick so bad, I could almost die. I got both hands on him, tuggin' at him, and he starts grunting at me real low in his throat.

"Bitte, Spatz, lick me."

He pulls my fuckin' hair hard, and I'm lickin' him all over. Course I know exactly what I'm doing, and he obviously loves it cause he's pullin' me back and forth. He can't exactly keep up with me but that's fine, I know what I do to people.

Before I know it his dick is twitchin' in my mouth, and my hands are on his balls and he comes like a fuckin' horse. His hand fastens on my throat, lifts me, he pulls me to him and kisses me hard. I still got some of his come on my face, and he licks me clean. Fuck, it's so nasty, I don't even know how to deal with it. I'm hard as a rock.

"Now," he whispers to me. "Bend over, and we'll practice some medicine."

I got a good feelin' I'll like this injection.


	4. Chapter 4

WARNING: BLOODPLAY

Now that we have that out of the way:

You guys have a chance to decide the fate of my next story!

Well, not plot or anything, but pairing. I have created a nifty little poll that you can find on an-appleaday dot webs dot com. As well as the story in its entirety ;D

You get to vote who my other Scoot character will be with. Voting will close on Tuesday, October 16, at midnight PST.

* * *

When he flipped my examination table, all I could think of was tearing his intestines out his rectum. I wanted to slide those scalpels into his flesh, tear him apart, flay him and make him watch as I rip out his organs with my bare hands.

But I must contain myself. It would not do to violate him so mercilessly - at least, not until the second date.

I cannot resist hitting him, though. I am furious, welling over with anger, and I regret to admit, I shout rather violently at the boy.

"You may disrespect doctors, including my good self. You may detest my office and all zat happens in here. You may even be moved to shout or harm me. But you do NOT interfere vith my tools, my clothing, or my furniture. You do NOT touch any of my equipment vithout my permission. Do you understand zat, or must I dumb it down for you?"

He looks flabbergasted, and I have to say I have no idea when I threw him against the wall. I feel slightly spacey, as if I am not in control of my own body. I'm holding him up with a hand on his thin little neck. I could snap it, just one quick turn, and he'd be limp and broken at my feet. The Respawn system would catch him, of course, and he'd be good as new; but it would also push him away from me.

"Answer me, you little slut." I hear the words as if someone else is saying them. I almost turn to look for who is speaking but manage to stop myself just in time for him to kiss me.

He's so inexperienced. I suppose it has now fallen upon me to teach him. The only way to deal with Scout, I have learned, is to show him you are completely in control.

I press my palm against his hardening package, grasp the outline of his shaft, and tell him in no uncertain terms that I am going to run this procedure. My teeth fasten on his throat, clenching just hard enough to restrict his breathing. Naturally he's wriggling about and whining like I'm hurting him, so I suppose I must relinquish my hold.

I kiss him again, hard and deep, forcing my tongue between his lips. My Scout slumps down so I support him with my leg, and before I know it he's rubbing on my knee, moaning. This child is so impatient. His hand is on my stomach, now, feeling my muscles. I am slightly ticklish, I must admit.

So I throw him on the floor, and he scrambles at me, his hands outstretched towards my hardening cock. Before he can chafe me, though, I tear the bandages off his hands - the bandages he stole from me the other day, I might add - and he's on me like a ravenous wolf, licking and sucking and even nibbling my skin. The teeth, I don't like so much, but he swallows me like he hasn't eaten in weeks. I grasp his hair, to slow him down, but he keeps jerking back and forth. I want to stop, to really bask in this sensation. He doesn't let me. I come, hard, into his mouth, and he swallows greedily.

And then I am kissing him, tasting myself on his lips.

"Now," I tell him. "Bend over, and we'll practice some medicine."

He doesn't wait for a second. He turns away from me, pulls off his shirt, allows me to pull him back against my chest. I'm licking and biting and sucking at his shoulders. My hands stroke his stomach, caress the taut lines of his abdomen, and push his trousers down off his hips. His shorts are askew, and jutting out in front like a tent.

My fingers grasp his erection and lovingly stroke through the cotton. He grunts, peels off his boxers, and puts his hand over mine, jacking fast and hard.

I grasp both his wrists with my other hand and hold them together. "No, Finnbar," I tell him sternly. "You must listen to your doctor. Rest assured, you will recieve excellent treatment ... but only if you cooperate."

He groans as I work his shaft, smearing precum across his slit with my thumb. He is nearly dripping, this lad. I am still hard as a rock, and his ass, so tight and soft, beckons sweetly. The scent of his skin is intoxicating. No matter how much deodorant I insist he slathers on, there is always that boyish smell of sweat and dirt surrounding him. His skin is salty against my tongue as I lave it across his neck, now. My teeth leave deep imprints in his flesh.

Surgical lubricant is always on hand - one of the many perks of being a doctor. I quickly undress and slather myself in the substance. Finnbar whimpers as I slip my cock between his cheeks, teasing his puckered hole. He seems uneasy.

"Doc, is ... is this gonna hurt?" he mutters, blushing fiercely. I laugh.

"Oh, dearest Finnbar. If you only knew," I tell him, and with one thrust I am inside.

He screams, the sound of his agony drowning me as I saw back and forth. He begs me to stop, screeches that I'm hurting him, that he will bat in my head once he gets away. He is struggling. At once point he manages to strike my lip, but the taste of blood only serves to fuel my desire.

And it isn't too long until his attitude changes. As I tear his delicate inner lining, he begins to moan in earnest. Now he is begging me never to stop. He bellows my title again and again, struggling to turn himself over. I allow him this small privelege.

He tightens his arms around my neck, sobbing into my shoulder. "Oh, Jesus, Doc, right there ... how the fuck, how the fuck ... come on, do it, doc, do it!"

My Scout begins to pant harder, shout louder, to push against me. His throbbing cock is trapped between our bodies and it rubs against my body hair on every stroke. I could fuck him forever, this delicate little creature; I want to tear him wide open, to bury myself inside him, and stay there forever.

He bleeds like a fountain. Scout will need quite the blast from my medigun to treat his poor, torn up ass. Squealing like a pig, he jerks hard against me. One of his hands snakes down to caress his cock but I trap it halfway, place his fingers in my mouth, and bite down.

It is then that he comes, shooting sticky ropes across my chest. One manages to hit my lip and I release his hand in order to kiss him.

He seems reluctant, at first; but I tangle a hand in his hair, tug hard, and hiss, "lick it up, Spatzchen. Lick your come off me."

And with a look of revulsion, he does. There is something in his face, though, that makes me think perhaps he wanted this all along. He licks me carefully, cleans every trace of semen from my face, and then kisses me, hard. It is now that my hand finally wraps around his cock and jacks him gently. My mouth is suddenly filled with his moan of relief.

I am not done yet, though. I push him off me, shove him on his face, and begin to push hard and fast. My hands are clenched on his hips, and he grunts with each thrust. I am so close. All I want to do is fill him with my come, to mark him as mine. How I would love to parade my Spatzchen before the rest of the team and show them my conquest. Nevermind battlefield statistics - this is domination.

With that thought I come buckets. I fill him with semen, and when I withdraw I shoot onto his back, painting him with my essence. Each splatter elicits a gasp from him.

It is then that I collapse on the floor. He crawls towards me, all of his limbs shaking, his cock at half-mast. My filthy boy.

He slips into my arms. I kiss his forehead and smooth the hair away from his temples. Both of us are breathing raggedly, covered in sweat, and entirely too warm for comfort. Nevertheless I hold him close, allowing him a moment of tenderness.

"Heya, Doc?" he asks me. Could I be mistaken, or does my Scout sound - shy?

"Yes, Finn?" I respond.

"Well, I sorta told ya my name. Can ... can I know -"

"No, you may not," I interrupt. He goes quiet for a moment. The silence becomes oppressive, so I decide to continue.

"However ... you may call me your Master."

And with that, I grasp his cock and slam him on his back again.


	5. Chapter 5

Don't forget to vote at an-appleaday dot webs dot com for my next pairing!

I'm so sorry, I totally messed with the TF2 time setting. Just pretend this doesn't happen.

* * *

I never woulda thought a doc would be so good at fuckin' up his teammates. Then again, seein' what he does to the other team is pretty scary when you see it close up. He has this thing for murderin' people with needles.

Anyway, I swear my ass is still freakin' painful even after he gives me a jolt from that medicine gun of his. I kin remember that fire like nothin' else. It hurt so bad, I thought I was gonna die.

And then the pain didn't matter so much, I guess, cause I've been wantin' it so bad. I've been wantin' /him/.

He ain't never in his office, though. I find an excuse to go on by and he's out somewheres, or asleep, or whatever. I ain't had any relief for a week, now, and it's driving me insane.

So I'm layin' on my bed, right, just imagining his hands on me. I think about his teeth and his lips, and how when he kisses me I kin feel his stubble on me. The way he smells like hospital-clean and shampoo and somethin' real dark, almost scary. The way his mouth tastes like blood.

I'm rock hard, pushin' into my hand, and my mouth is open wide and I'm grunting for him like a fuckin' pig - all that "Master, Master" bullshit he made me do last week - when there's a knock at the door.

Holy fuckin' shit my heart's goin' so fast I could DIE. I toss my blanket over my junk and sit up, all pissed off, and bellow "who the fuck is it? Whaddya want, huh?"

That big Russian fatass yells back, "Doktor is want you, leetle Scout!'

Ah, fuckin' FINALLY. I jam myself down my pants, adjust so it doesn't look like my boner's as big as it is - ain't like Heavy will care, anyway, them Russians are all queer as fuck - and pull the door open real fast.

Bit weird, though, Heavy's eyes are all red. "Allergies, Pancakes?" I ask him. He looks kinda shocked for a moment, hesitates, then nods. He probably doesn't even understand, the dumb fucker.

Don't even matter though cause I'm runnin' like the wind down the hallway, now, barefoot. Doc called for me, he called for me, he wants to see me. My Doctor. My Medic. Each breath is like lava, burnin' down my throat deep into my belly.

But holy shit, man, when I get to his office he ain't even there. There's this note on the door, "back in twenty minutes". Fuck that shit, I think, and I just bust my way in. Ain't even locked.

Within like two minutes, I'm bored already. I start searchin' around for shit to do. I already got plenty bandages for my hands - Doc sent me back to my room last week with a whole box, so I don't need to wrap my wrists or anythin'. I ain't goin' nowhere near the used needle box, 'cause I know Demo gets injections from the Doc all the time and hell if I'm exposin' myself to his Scrumpy blood. And I can't fuckin' understand German or whatever so readin' the charts ain't no good. For a few minutes I think I'm just shit outta luck for stuff to do ... until I notice Doc's bedroom door is open.

I didn't realize, before last week, that his bedroom was like in his office. But now I can't resist, I gotta snoop. Before I know it, I'm in his room. First thing I do is jump on his bed and roll around on his pillows. I wouldn't ever fuckin' admit it but I like the way his bed smells. It's all clean and shit. I guess I should actually wash my sheets once in a while.

Then I notice his drawers. I learned a while ago that people always keep interestin' shit in their drawers, so I guess if Doc has any dirty secrets I better find 'em all now before I get too far with him. You know, one fuck is fine, but more'n once and you're askin' fer trouble.

So I yank that top drawer open and suddenly I'm elbow deep in his fuckin' underwear. Awesome. Man, some of this shit, I wouldn't even see a chick wear. He got all this skimpy shit in there, I can't even understand how you'd wear it. Medic is officially the weirdest guy I know.

I guess I get a little too enthusiastic tossin' all that stuff around cause I kinda wind up puttin' a pair on my head and pretendin' I'm Demo. Actin' real drunk gets borin' soon, though, so I start to pretend I'm a pirate. It gets even better when I find a big floppy rubber cock in that drawer, and decide it's my sword. I fight with the drawer until it falls out, and out topples a box fulla flat foil-wrapped things.

Naturally this is way more interesting than being a pirate, so I start lookin' at the foil thingies. I open one or two and start playin' with the slimy little rings inside. It's awesome when I realize they unroll, so I gotta put one on every finger. It gets a little hard to put 'em on once I've got my whole left hand covered, but my ma always said to keep tryin' til I reach my goal. And man, my goal is to be Edward Condomhands.

Thinkin' of Edward Condomhands reminds me of when my ma used to sit me down in front of old cartoons, and I think how fuckin' hilarious it would be if Spiderman shot condom webs.

Just then, the Doc walks in.

My immediate reaction is to flip out. I flick my hands at his face, kinda forgettin' about the condoms. And I kinda maybe yelled "Spiderman!" as I did it.

Medic does not look impressed.

The condoms mostly just fall down except one manages to hook on his glasses. He sighs, picks off the condom, and drops it on the floor. That's ... that's really weird for him, he's usually so fuckin' uptight. His face is all slimy now. I can barely keep from laughin'.

"Uh, hey, Doc. You wanted to see me?" I ask him, suckin' up.

Before I know it I'm on the fuckin bed and he's on me, his knee in my gut - not hard, just so's I can't sit up.

He lowers his face, brushing his lips against mine. "My dear Spatzchen," he purrs, breathin' hard in my face. I groan and rub against him, all hungry. My boner's back in an instant.

"Yeah, D- yeah, Master?" I ask, rememberin' how he likes that.

His hand fastens on my throat, and he asks me, "want to try something ... exciting?"

I nod at him, a big shit-eating grin on my face. "Yeah, doc. I really do."

And it's right then that I feel the prick in my neck, and my toes go numb.


	6. Chapter 6

Please be aware this chapter is split POV. The person I was writing it for (ex-Roommate) demanded it be so. Also if you're not aware by this point that there is bloodplay ... just ... go home.

Voting is still underway for my next pairing. an-appleaday dot webs dot com. Voting will remain open until October 16th at midnight PST. Eight votes, really? ONLY EIGHT. Vote vote!

By the way, the drug in this chapter is real. Please don't go out and try to buy some. You will probably kill someone with it. Stay in school.

* * *

I never imagined one little Scout could wreak so much havoc. I suppose I should have take the precaution of locking my bedroom door, because naturally I arrive to utter chaos.

My underwear drawer has been defiled. I look aghast at the wreckage, at the g-string on Scout's head - dear God, of course he would decide to put it over his face - and the dildo across the room. I have no time to be mortified, however, because he apparently has decided to toss unrolled condoms into my face.

"Spiderman!"

I stare at him, nonplussed. His face turns bright red. It would almost be cute, if I wasn't currently covered in lubricant. One condom has hooked over my glasses, so I pick it off and toss it on the floor. I figure my room will be so much messier so soon that it's hardly worth the bother. Scout looks shocked.

"Uh, hey, Doc. You wanted to see me?" He's shifting nervously back and forth, obviously apprehensive about my reaction.

Before he can react further I step towards him and push him down on the bed. I know that if I let him get up he'll take off, so I leap onto him and jam my leg into his belly. If he attempts to jerk up and away he'll only wind himself.

A little kiss and I speak softly to him. "My dear Spatzchen," I growl, wanting only to sink my teeth into his white flesh. He should be more tanned, running around outdoors all day just wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

My little Scout seems to have remembered his training. "Yeah D- yeah, Master?"

I grip his throat in one hand, leaning close. The smell of his skin arouses me, as does the insistent jab of his firm cock.

"Vant to try somezhing ... exciting?"

And before he has time to agree, I jab the needle into his neck.

He jerks against me and winds himself, as I knew he would. The look in his eyes is incomprehensible - I cannot tell if he wants this or not. But, regardless of his desires, I have injected a full dose of cisatracurium and within seconds he is completely immobile. He is mine for at least an hour, now.

As his body stiffens, I lift him into my arms and carry him out into the exam room. The table has been prepped for him, cushioned and covered in a thick, soft sheet. I lower him down onto it slowly and he groans. It sounds like his throat is thick with mucous; his noises are soft protesting mewls.

_Jeez, doc, a bit more gentle! Ooh, my fuckin' head. I can't fucking move, shit, shit ..._

My lips fasten onto his as my hand reaches over to my sterile tray and deftly grasps a scalpel. His eyes close as if in slow-motion, and he grunts into my mouth.

"Can you move your fingers? Blink once for yes, two for no."

_If I could I'd be strangling you, you fucker!_

He gives two jerky blinks. I hiss in satisfaction and begin slicing his shirt off. He whimpers at me as I reach his neckline, and I may or may not have nicked his throat. The well of blood makes my head swim; I lean down, and lick it away. The touch of my tongue silences him.

_Oh, you motherfucker, don't ever fuckin' stop that. Jeez, Doc, I wanna touch you so bad. What the fuck is wrong with you?_

Then his pants are under my palms, and I'm shredding them rapidly, hardly caring if I nick his flesh anymore. Numerous spots of blood appear on his hips and abdomen, which I hurry to suckle at. His blood is salty and harsh against my tongue, but I am greedy for it. Before I know it he is naked and immobile before me, all mine. A fucktoy to enjoy at my leisure. The cisatracurium will not wear off for quite some time.

My own clothes are disposed of at a remarkably rapid pace, and tossed on the floor carelessly. My shirt will require inordinate amounts of ironing to restore. I take a moment to check that the door is locked before returning to the task at hand.

_Come on, doc, you were like right next to my dick ..._

I lift one hand delicately and suck the tips of his fingers, eliciting a quiet moan from him. His jaw falls open. I return to his lips, kissing him hard and pushing my tongue into his mouth.

_You're suffocating me, fuck, I can't breathe, Doc. I can't fuckin' breathe._

My fingertips find their way to his nipples and tweak gently. I can only imagine how he'd protest if he could move. My tongue follows soon, leaving bright red marks in its wake. There is nothing quite like the sensation of sinking my teeth into his flesh, feeling his skin depress and yield to me.

As my fingers travel lower, he starts grunting at me urgently. I brush the back of my hand against his shaft, standing at attention before me.

_Fucking DO it, Doc, right there! Don't stop, oh god, please touch me._

I trail my fingers down his shaft, tracing each vein. With my other hand, I smear my own cock with surgical lubricant and wipe the excess on his leg.

_Jeez, that's cold. How about you ask a guy next time ya spread that shit on him?_

"This vill hurt, Finnbar," I purr to him as I pull him to the edge of the table. His muscles spasm and the metal of the table squeals in protest beneath the cushions. Scout whimpers and blinks rapidly. My fingers clench on his hips, my nails digging in deep enough to raise thin lines of blood. They spill over and run down his flesh like tiny red waterfalls. I lift his legs around my hips and push into him, slowly, gently.

My fingers wrap around his erection and tug him slowly, in time with my thrusts. Finnbar grunts with each pull.

_Fuck you and your fuckin' drugs. I'll get you back for these bites and shit, you just wait. Oh, fuck, right there!_

With one particularly long thrust I manage to hit his prostate. He is usually swift to orgasm, but it seems the neuromuscular blocker has increased his stamina. I suppose, if I'm subjecting him to something new, I may as well give him a little treat.

I'm at the edge of my own orgasm, so close to spilling into him, when I pull out. He sobs brokenly in protest, and by the way he's staring he seems rather disappointed in my withdrawal.

He doesn't seem to mind, though, when I start lubricating his cock and straddle his hips. Rubbing myself against him, I grasp his ear in my teeth and begin to suck on the earlobe. He pants eagerly as I position myself on the tip of his dick and slowly push back.

I can feel the head poke through my anus and stretch me open. I haven't bottomed in so long that the sensation is almost completely foreign, and at first I grit my teeth in pain. My hands are on his shoulders, now, and my nails tear at his skin. He bleeds so much from these shallow cuts that soon my palms are slicked in blood, and I'm not even halfway down his cock yet.

I move on him in short, jerky strokes. Taking one of his hands, I wrap the fingers around my shaft and thrust into it. I want to come, so badly, and in this position I am guaranteed to mark his face.

I would love to open his flesh yet wider and watch his eyes.

With that thought I spurt hard, doubling over and shouting wordlessly. I love that he can't flinch when my semen covers his face, painting his cheeks and lips.

_Oh, come on. That's so fuckin' nasty. Come on, doc, clean me up!_

I pull off of him, panting and whimpering. He blinks at me, then jerks his eyes down at his erection. By now, I imagine, he must be rather desperate to orgasm. So, naturally, I decide to let him wait a little longer.

I fondle the skin of his thighs and press two fingers deep inside him, massaging his prostate. Every time he exhales he moans softly, and his eyes are closed tight against the harsh lighting over the table. My tongue caresses his testes as my other hand begins to toy with his foreskin. I take care not to touch his shaft or the head of his penis, lest he come too close to completion.

_Oh that's just fuckin' cruel. Come on, touch me! I wanna come so bad - you already came all over me, you don't get it. You dunno how hard this is. So unfair, please, please touch me. Please!_

I leave bitemarks on his tender thighs before returning to his testes. Suckling gently at the skin elicits a wonderful reaction in the form of a long, drawn-out moan. They tighten against my lips, warning of his impending orgasm.

Before I know it, I have three fingers in his ass and I'm pumping hard, urging him to come. And mein gott, when he comes he comes hard, shooting like a fountain. I aim his cock at his face, giving him a double dose of semen. I can only imagine how furious he must be right now.

_You better be plannin' to clean me the fuck up! This is so gross. Get that jizz offa my face, you fucker. If I could hit you, I'd punch you right in the fuckin' mouth, ya dirty bastard._

His fingers are twitching. I can't believe it, but it's already been an hour, and the drug is wearing off. He rolls his eyes at me as I lick his face clean, and then kiss him softly. His tongue presses weakly against mine. When I pull back, he is smiling - the tug is just barely there at the corners of his mouth but it's unmistakeable. With shaking hands, I reach for a prepared syringe full of edrophonium to speed up his recovery, and inject it into his bicep. He winces; soon enough, he has recovered sufficiently to punch me softly in the jaw.

I won't lie, there is a little sting, but I am glad that was all the retribution he deemed necessary.

"So, did you enjoy yourself, mein Spatzchen?" I murmur, resting my forehead against his.

He groans in response, snuggling up and pulling me close. At first I don't know what to say or do. My Scout is not very cuddly, for the most part, but for now he seems quite content to bury his face in my chest and wrap his limbs around me. A curious warmth builds in my chest as I curl on the table beside him.

"Yeah, Doc," he whispers. "I really woulda liked to touch ya, though. I mean, you're just ... so handsome, and I gotta ..."

I put a finger to his lips, stopping him. "Zen next time, Lieb, you can do all ze work. Ja?"

He laughs and kisses my finger. "Okay, but I don't think I could call ya Master anymore if ya let me take over."

"You have a very good point, Finn. Now, hush and let me bask. You smell wunderbar covered in my semen."

"Always the charmer," he tells me. I do believe he may be right.


	7. Chapter 7

Same old jazz, go to an-appleaday dot webs dot com and vote for the next pairing. SHARE YOUR SHIP WITH ME. I will make it happen.

* * *

For the past two weeks, I have been watching little Scout and my Medic meeting in secret. They seem to think I don't notice, that I'm too dumb to understand what is going on between them. I see the way they look at each other. I know that face Medic makes, that mix of hunger and violence and adoration.

Each day, after the battles, I wait to be healed in the sick bay. Each day I attempt to go last, to try and talk to the Doctor. Each day Scout insists I go first, and each day Medic ushers me out as fast as he can. I know there are other things on his mind - I went in for a broken arm yesterday and he tried to examine my leg.

I cannot wait anymore. I have resolved to set today aside to speak to Medic. It is hard to drag myself out of bed so early on a day off, but I know that the longer I leave it the less likely I am to get around to speaking to him at all. My bed is so warm and soft; I remember the days Medic shared it with me. Those mornings, waking up late, holding his strong body against me, cushioning him against my chest as he touches me ...

I can't think of this now.

So I jump out of bed, pulling on last night's clothes. I'm sure Medic won't particularly care if there are blood splatters on my vest or shirt. In fact, I'm sure it will delight him. Maybe it will even earn me some points with him.

My stomach is clenching hard and I feel as though I'm about to throw up. His door is closed and a "do not disturb" sign hangs in the window. One more reason to give up and leave. I remember the day our romantic trysts ended. For weeks on end that sign hung on the door, whenever I tried to speak to him. It's a harsh reminder of how bad things got between us.

I press my ear to the door, and I can hear Scout shouting within. I don't know if it's just him being an idiot, or if they're currently 'involved'. At that point I almost turn around and walk away, but my hand seems to have a mind of its own, forming into a fist and hammering on the door.

Fuck.

Immediately all noise within stops. I hear Medic's voice, low and hushed, and a door slamming. The office door is opened so suddenly I almost fall in, and there stands Medic, alone.

"Ja, Herr Heavy?"

"Doktor, I am wanting to talk to you. Please." I fumble more than usual for the English words, cursing my clumsy tongue.

He sighs and checks his wristwatch. I notice his gloves are gone and he looks slightly dishevelled. "Zis is not ... a particularly good time, dear Andrei ..."

"Please. Just one minute. Is important. I have to talk, cannot stay quiet."

Another sigh escapes his lips, and he rolls his eyes at me. "All right. Please, make it quick. I am very busy today."

"Da. Can tell," I say sarcastically as I follow him. I settle myself in the chair at his desk. He snorts, irate, and I realize it probably wasn't a good idea to push my luck immediately.

"Vould you care for coffee?" I accept the proffered mug silently and sip, attempting to piece words together.

"Doktor, I am miss you," I blurt. Before he can speak I put up a hand and continue. "Please, just to listen. Every day you are with Scout. I remember when was me you loved. We were always together, work like one man, sleep like babies. Because you were there. Then we were not together, and now you are with Scout. He is noisy baby man! Like child! Does not know anything! You waste time -"

He is angry and stands up to interrupt me. "Who I choose to spend mein time vith is none of your business, Andrei," he tells me. I stare down into my black coffee, ashamed. "Vhat Scout and I do togezher is between him and I, do you understand? You have no right to barge in here and shout at me, in mein own office! If you vant somezhing, ask. Ozhervise please get out."

I am silent for a moment. His anger was expected, but I am still shaken by it. I don't know how to put what I want into coherent statements. My English is poor at the best of times but he used to be so patient with it. Now it only enrages him.

"I want you back, Doktor," I tell him quietly.

For a moment there is unbroken silence.

Medic's bedroom door creaks open, and Scout emerges, shirtless and sleepy-looking. He takes the cup of coffee from my Medic's hands and sips at it.

"Look, bud. You want him, you'll have to fight me," he says calmly.

I can't help it. I laugh out loud immediately and stand, slamming my mug on the desk. "I will fight, any day, and win," I declare, thumping my chest with one hand.

"Come at me, slugger!"

"Enough!" Medic's shout is thunderous. He pushes me down into my chair, then turns on Scout. "Did I not tell you to vait until I got you? I did not vant to upset Heavy any more zan absolutely necessary. Besides," he adds, glaring at me now, "I am not some /toy/ to be squabbled over by children! If you insist upon fighting for me zen you vill /both/ lose me. And I am absolutely serious," he continues, grabbing Scout's arm. To my surprise Scout looks down at his feet and flushes. I almost feel bad for the boy.

Medic looks sternly at both of us over his glasses. There is absolute silence for a moment. "You vill just have to learn to share," he adds, and there is a hint of humour in his voice.

I am the first to speak. "I am okay with dis."

Scout looks at me quizzically, then shrugs. "I guess I'd be cool with it too. But no fuckin' kissin' from the big guy," he adds quickly.

Medic stares at us, dumbfounded. "Have you both lost your minds?"

Scout snorts. "Hey, ain't like two meat sticks are any gayer'n one."

I almost jump with delight as Medic puts his face in his hands. He is moments from agreeing, I can tell.

"If you two believe zis is a good idea, ve can try. But I don't vant any arguments, and if you two begin behaving like children, ve vill be through. Understood?"

My heart skips a beat. I readily agree, as does Scout. Medic shoos us towards the bedroom.

"Fine, zen. But I don't vant to clean up vhen we're done."


End file.
